“SILENT MOURNING”
Sitting beside the funeral pyre,
When all I could see was despair and cries,
I sat there, just watching by.
I asked myself, “Why can’t I cry?”
And I realized, sitting there watching by,
Might that I’ve already died?
Maybe the solitude took me deeply in its stride,
And maybe the warmth doesn’t pass my soul by.
And maybe all the years I cried by, don’t make me feel alive.
And maybe the light doesn’t pass my soul,
After all these years of dark dungeons I crawled.
And maybe it’s the silence I got when my soul cried,
Which makes me feel less alive.
And maybe when she left, my soul died,
That’s why I feel so less alive.
And maybe when she left, my soul died,
So I can’t cry.
And maybe I don’t cry,
Since death wasn’t the most brutal thing I ever came by.
And I guess I already died, that’s why I don’t cry.
